I'll Promise Not to Cry if You Promise Not to Beg
by JAMonMyToast
Summary: A different beginning to Jim and Pam. The same Drug Testing, the same Diwali, with a few twists. Another sad one-shot. K plus for a few mild drug references.


**A/N: I'm such a freak, I like to imagine that Jim and Pam didn't get off to a great start. I've been thinking about writing a fic about this for awhile now, and finally found a plausible reason.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own The Office. Duh.**

"Jim! Jim-bo! Jimbo made another sale, uh! Jimbo made another sale, UH!"

Days like this were unbearable. Days when Jim was on the phone every minute of every hour and didn't get turned down once. Days when Michael remembered change for the soda machine and brought in laffy taffy for everyone.

_"A theme party, everyone. Shake that laffy taffy!" he sang while turning up a song that sang, consequently, "shake that laffy taffy" over and over and over."_

Her head hurt.

And it didn't help, not one bit, that the new salesman had smiled along to all of it.

And okay, he isn't really _ne_w anymore. He's been here for almost month and a half, having moved here to be closer to his mother or something weird like that.

But it certainly didn't help that he was a more of a kiss-ass that Dwight. Nope, didn't help one bit.

Dwight turned to Pam and shook his head slowly, just as annoyed with Jim's new sale as she was. It was comical, really. She and Dwight never even looked at each other until they had this in common.

She shakes her head, rolling her eyes and giving him a gentle smile. Jim was already dialing another number, and Michael was yelling "Drumroll, please!" while Oscar and Angela massaged their temples in accounting.

Pam understood.

It's later, though, when Michael proposes that everyone stop calling Pam, "Pam" and instead simply call her "Receptionist" that she thinks she's going to lose it. Phyllis, trying to be helpful, points out that it's easier to say "Pam" than it is to say "Receptionist". Michael doesn't listen. The only person who agrees with him is Jim.

She hates him. She really does.

XXXX

Two weeks later, it's Oscars Fiesta day. A day that changes date every year, and simply has now become something they routinely celebrate every three months. Or when Michael gets a coupon for frozen burritos.

Pam watches the stars on the roof, alone. A container of yogurt sits next to her. She's sipping some cheap beer that Kevin managed to sneak past Toby when someone sits down on the chair next to her.

"Hey," she hears and realizes it's his voice. She can't help but roll her eyes a little.

"Um, hi," she mutters and _knows_ she sounds really bitchy, but can't help it. It's when the breeze changes direction that she can smell vodka wafting off him.

"Man, that guy is fucking_ crazy_," he says in this kind of exhausted way and she's instantly disgusted with him.

"Uh, _yeah_, he _is_. And he only gets worse when there's a kiss-ass around to make him feel better about the stuff he does." Frigid. Absolutely frigid. The venom that tips her voice is unmistakable. "_Why_ are you like that, anyways?" She sounds annoyed.

He sighs. It's quiet for a full two minutes, and she eventually forgets about wanting an answer. Let him be like this, without a single office friend except for Michael. She doesn't care.

She's thinking she wants to open up her yogurt when he says something.

"I want to move up in the company. Work distracts me."

She kind of understands that, but it still makes her mad. You can do good in this company without being such a tool.

And what about work being distracting? Of course it was. What was it supposed to distract him from?

"My little brother died two months ago."

And this? It kills her. Like, in about two seconds, and suddenly she knows why he would move closer to his mom. She knows why he wants work to distract him. She knows he's been encouraging Michael while grieving on autopilot.

Pam wants to say something, but she's not sure if she should ask _why_ or _how_ or give him a hug and she turns to see tears dribbling down his cheeks, hasty rivers that don't end. He bends over and she sees the bottle he set by his side, strong stuff that he doesn't drink with juice or soda or anything. Just plain.

"Jim," she whispers and feels for him, she really does.

"He took a handful of Vicodin and died on his bathroom floor."

And this kills her even more, because it wasn't a car accident or anything like that. His brother killed him_self_.

She turns in her chair and gives him a quick hug, but he isn't responding now.

XXXX

Ten minutes later, he's dried his cheeks and that breeze has helped brush away the blotchy appearance of his face. She's jealous that he can look like he hasn't been crying so fast. When she cries, her eyes swell up for days.

The lid is coming off her yogurt when he speaks up.

"This might sound weird, and there's no reason for me to know this, but that mixed berry yogurt you're about to eat has expired."

She sets it down and giggles. She thinks she likes him.

"You know you can talk to me, okay? Like, about anything. Just as long as you don't ever agree with Michael when he starts trying to make people call me 'Receptionist'. Alright?"

He chuckles. "I'm sorry for that. And you know what? I'm going to take you up on that offer. Every time my mom calls saying that she misses Nate, I'm going to ambush you with my problems."

She smiles. "I'd be glad to help. Seriously."

They shake on it.

XXXX

A week later, he _does_ take her up on that offer. Pam brings him to Cuginos and thinks it would be rude to share her great news on the same day he can't forget his little brother, not breathing on the cold tile.

By the time they finish the pizza, they've moved on to safer ground and are laughing again. He notices the new ring just as they're leaving.

XXXX

It's a while later, after the cameras arrive, when a joint is discovered in the parking lot.

At first, she's apprehensive. Scared that when Dwight tries to preach about the dangers of drugs, Jim's going to lose it or something. But that's dumb, because what does she expect, that he's just going to start bawling in front of the entire office? No.

Ten minutes after they know that today is going to be all about "drugs this" and "drugs that", he wanders over to her desk. Kevin is being interviewed by one camera. Dwight is being filmed doing his investigation with the other. They are safe.

"Hey," she says quietly, softly. "How are you?"

He's looks down, doesn't take a jellybean. "Let's just... I am not making today about my brother. Okay?" His voice is gruff, with a hard edge to it and makes her nervous. Like even though she knows now they won't be _talking_ about his brother, Jim will be _thinking_ about him all day long.

His joking is over-the-top and she plays along with every bit of it because she doesn't like seeing him cry.

She sees Jim punch his steering wheel when they leave, though.

Her heart hurts in a way she can't exactly place.

XXXX

The Diwali celebration is hard for her. He's gone and she's alone, trying to look cool and dance spontaneously. Her eye catches the date on her phone when she wants to check the time. Her heart stops.

Today is the five-year anniversary.

Her head hurts and her eyes blur and the music and the spicy smells and the dancing is too much for her. She has to get out of here.

She thinks she'll shoot him a text. Something simple, to open the gate for talking. He would really want to talk, if he was still here.

She never gets an answer.

XXXX

Miles away, in Stamford, Connecticut, Jim Halpert passed out on his desk and finally forgot about "Nate's not answering my calls" and "I'll go to his house and see what's up".

He'll remember in the morning, though, and Karen doesn't ask when he starts crying in the back seat of her SUV.

**I'm still not sure about how I feel about this one.... whaddaya think? Good? Bad? Horrible? Hmph.**


End file.
